


Teach Your Children Well

by Amilyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Bloodline - Claudia Gray
Genre: Baby, F/M, Parenthood, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amilyn/pseuds/Amilyn
Summary: In the aftermath of the Galactic Civil War, Han and Leia start their family, and Leia grapples with what comes next.Written for @wishfulfanficing in the Tumblr Han/Leia Secret Santa Holiday Exchange 2019.  Prompt:
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: Hanleia Exchange, Hanleia Winter Exchange 2017





	1. The Past is Just a Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wishfulfanficing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulfanficing/gifts).



> Thanks to oldtoadwoman and gondalsqueen for betaing and input. MANY thanks to people for uploading maps and Star Wars trivia to the internet.

A new baby brought joy, wonder, exhaustion, tenderness, and the reawakening of old griefs.

Ben and the Galactic Concordance had come together. It was unbelievable, that there had been peace before their son was born three days ago. Three short, interminable days.

When Han had trudged out to get bread, stew, and fruit for dinner, Leia and Ben were sleeping soundly. The baby was tucked up on her chest, ear to her heart, with Leia's hand on his back. Both had been breathing audibly. Han, also exhausted, had wanted to join them, but food had to come first.

That was less than three quarters of an hour before.

Holding the food parcels in one arm, he slowed the door as it slid closed, minimizing the sound. Too late. He heard mewling sounds. Quickly setting the food on the entry table, Han kept one hand near his blaster as he scanned their quarters...apartment...whatever. The small sitting area was clear, and he peered around the corner into their tiny bedroom. There, in the gliding chair next to their bed, was Leia. Ben was nursing, greedy but content, lips smacking occasionally.

The soft crying was Leia. Her face was red and wet, tears dripping from her chin onto Ben's soft baby clothes.

Ben, for his part, didn't seem to mind.

Han holstered his blaster and sat on the footstool, pulling Leia's feet into his lap and stroking her legs. He remained silent. Asking questions was the least effective way to get information from the last princess of Alderaan.

"Han, I'm going to ruin him."

He looked a question at her.

"Look at him." She traced the curve of his cheek with a finger, but held back from actually touching him.

Under a shock of dark curls, huge, dark baby eyes stared around Leia's breast and into her face. The baby regarded her like she could do magic--and, Han supposed, she could in a way: she'd grown a whole baby in that tiny body. And she had the Force, a magic as incomprehensible as ever, both in its existence and the fact that _Leia_ could use it. Of course, Leia could do anything, and his son already knew that as well as Han.

Leia traced the curve of his ear, sniffled, and wound a dark curl around her finger. One of Ben's tiny, baby fists patted and squeezed her chest, the movements jerky as he worked out a new body and muscles and gravity.

"I'm looking at both of you." Han's voice came out thick, and he cupped their baby's head under his palm. "And you're perfect."

Leia's breath caught, her chin puckered, and she tucked her face toward Ben as more tears flowed. She was shaking her head, so he'd gotten it wrong somehow.

"You wanna tell me what's wrong, sweetheart?" Always leave the choice to her. He'd learned that within a minute of meeting her. Less shouting that way.

"You're right. He is perfect. His long fingers, his little toes. He's perfect and soft and he loves me and loves you...and I'm going to ruin him." Her voice caught, and it took her a few breaths to get on top of it again. "I can't even shield my thoughts or my feelings. He's hearing all of this," she gestured first between them then solely at her chest and face, "but he's hearing all _this_ too. He's brand new, and I'm pouring doubt and fear into him. We don't even know what that could do to a Force-sensitive child."

"Are you sure," Han offered, hesitating, "are you sure you don't want to take Luke up on his offer? If a little training would ease your mind--"

Leia shook her head. "He's off planet and, even if he were here...Han, he's still researching _if_ there are lightsaber practice forms...not even _what_ they were, but if they _existed_. If he can't find practical records like that, how could he possibly find out how my feelings will affect Ben?"

Leia held Ben close, tucking a finger into his hand so he would hold tight.

"We'll figure it out, sweetheart."

"How? Every. Single. Being. All of them. Every single one is _dead_. Luke is trying to reconstruct an entire practice from a relic and a few pebbles. And now what? I'm supposed to go off with him and we'll just...hope we don't repeat all the mistakes that led us here? Hope we don't recreate a Vader or an Emperor?"

Setting a hand on her knee, he stroked lightly with his thumb. "Leia, that's an awful lot of responsibility you're taking on there."

"It is a lot of responsibility!" Her frustration had stopped her tears. "Just last week, I could keep him safe, could meditate with him, calm him inside of me with just my breathing. Now he's his own person and--" She paused, took a breath, and lowered her voice. "Han, my father was _evil_. I don't care what Luke says about him being 'redeemed' at the end. All that cruelty--" She barely whispered the last words. "It's _in me_. What if I've passed that on--"

"All right, stop it right there." Han pulled the chair closer to him, took her face in his hands, and waited until she met his eyes. "You are not tainted by him. You are the best, the strongest person I know. You are nothing like him. And--"

"Han," she whispered, her eyes flicking down to Ben. The baby looked from one of them to the other, frowning. His dark eyes were so much like his mother's, but he looked like he was sizing them up, like he was listening. "I can feel him thinking, trying to understand. I don't think there is some terrible, looming, inevitable fate, but I'm still afraid." She'd looked away when admitting that, but looked up, every word weighted with eye contact. "We don't know. I don't know how to do this. Neither of us does."

Han swiped his hand over his mouth. She was right, of course. She was right so damned often. "What if we could help Luke find more of that history? Do you think that might help?" If nothing else, it might help her feel better. "I mean, There have to be records. In the whole galaxy, it's not possible that none of this stuff survived."

Leia swallowed hard, rocking gently because Ben had drifted off to sleep, still half-sucking in slumber. "I wish that were true. But the Emperor? He was incredibly thorough. Han, I've looked. For five years, on dozens of HoloNet stations on dozens of planets. But...it's gone. Every speech, every public record, every image...the Emperor purged it all. As far as the records, it's as if Alderaan never existed." She took a shaky breath. "And...if he could do that across the entire galaxy, what must he have done to the Jedi records there on Coruscant?"

Han nodded slowly. That kind of sound, logical consideration of information and evidence made Leia an excellent commander. In a crisis, she kept a cool head, saw all the options before her, and almost inerrantly assessed the best move. It occurred to Han that this could be one of the manifestations of her previously-latent Force sensitivity. She'd saved their skins dozens of times simply by being a human lie detector.

But that didn't mean she had all the pieces in this case. "The galaxy is a huge place, Your Worship. We won't stop looking. And in the meantime, you remember. You and Carlist are the living memory."

She tried to nod, but her face twisted again. "I can't show him where he came from...." She frowned, absently patting Ben. "I...don't even know where _I_ came from, only where I grew up. I can't show him Alderaan, and I can't tell him his background beyond that--half because no one can know, and half because I don't even know."

"I never knew any of that myself." Han pulled up a chair next to the glider, pulled her to his shoulder, and set his feet on the footstool by hers. "It's rough. But you and me, sweetheart, we can do anything." He picked up one tiny foot and stroked it. "We'll be where he came from, and we can show him where he's going."


	2. Their Father's Hell Did Slowly Go By

It was a tight timeline. Han knew it. To fly into Coruscant, do research, and fly back to Chandrila, it was a lot for one day, even without leaving Leia home alone with the baby.

She'd gone back to work, and, for now, was taking Ben with her, tied to her chest like a baby Ewok. He'd tried to convince her to let him stay home with the baby, but she'd insisted she needed to nurse him, needed to feel him nearby. He didn't even try to get her to stay away from work. Her thoughts were spinning her around so hard she couldn't see straight, and he knew she needed to keep her mind occupied. Even busy, her refusal to be out of reach of the little one took on a tone of near paranoia, and Han couldn't argue with her, not as her eyes glistened with now-frequent--and incredibly unsettling--tears.

He was, however, making a habit of stopping by her office three or four times a day, insisting on taking his son for a walk for his own Ben-time. At the official end of the work day, he was there, ushering his family firmly out the door.

He couldn't keep Leia from bringing home work, but he could get her _home_ where she would at least kick off shoes and pull her feet up on something soft. Where he could make sure she had a solid dinner and ate it.

Now that Luke had returned, Han could have sent him to check on Leia and Ben while Han was off-planet, but he needed Luke, and he didn't want to say anything to Leia that could worry her or get her hopes up.

As odd as it felt, he'd appealed to Carlist Rieekan.

"I'd be glad to check in on the Princess--"

"Remember, you're there to _bring her lunch_." Han tilted his head, eyebrows up.

"Right. I'd be glad to stop by with lunch." He nodded. "And to see the baby." The hunger in Rieekan's eyes made it even more painfully real that he, too, had lost everything on Alderaan, including his chance to be a grandfather.

So it was that Han saw Leia and a four-week-old Ben off to work and was on his ship before she probably got to her office.

"What'd you tell Leia?" Luke asked once they were in hyperspace.

Chewie warbled, clearly disapproving.

Luke laughed then turned to Han, his open face incredulous. "You really told her you were making a supply run?"

Han pursed his lips. "First thing that came to me, all right, kid?"

"Okay. But if we're late, you get to be the one to tell her why."

Chewie chortled.

"I agree." Luke was taking this brother-in-law thing a little too seriously. "He gets to take the blame too!"

"Why'n't you make yourself useful, kid. Go over those maps you salvaged. Make sure we can move as fast as possible 'n' get home?"

Luke rolled his eyes but unstrapped the harness netting. He clapped Han on the shoulder before heading back.

Less than two hours later they set the _Falcon_ down as near the old Alderaanian Embassy as they could. The cleanup following the final battle on Coruscant had been several months before, but debris still littered the edges of the streets and walkways, while buildings and aerial footpaths still sported gaping holes.

"One thing I can say about Tatooine," Luke murmured, "At least there wasn't much to destroy."

Han smirked. "'Cept Jabba's Palace."

"That had been a long time in coming. I would have done it when I was nine if I could."

Han's mouth fell open, then he grinned. "Why you little… You _enjoyed_ taking out that gangster."

Luke's smile was lopsided, and his eyes twinkled. "Just don't tell Yoda. Or Old Ben."

It was easy to forget how slight his brother-in-law was, but as Luke skipped over rocks and cracks in the concrete, squeezing through blocked passages before using the Force to widen them for Han and Chewie, Han remembered how capable Luke was even outside an X-wing.

Chewie followed them with a bowcaster Han wasn't sure he'd need, but Chewie wasn't taking any chances with possible insurgents or vengeful Coruscanti citizens. After all, he'd woofed, Han and Luke were particularly recognizable humans, and, as with most planets, millions from Coruscant had died or lost everything in the war.

At the embassy complex, Han paused. He checked the old map he'd had Rieekan re-label for him.

"Han Solo." 

He and Luke both spun, hands on weapons. Chewie roared a warning.

A small, dark-skinned woman with puffs of shocking white hair slipped out from behind a pillar, smiling. "I did _not_ think it would really be you, despite my contact's assignment notes."

"It's me, in the flesh." Han caught Luke rolling his eyes. Ignoring it, he gestured. "This is Chewbacca, and this is Luke Skywalker."

"No kidding. Three heroes of the Rebellion, before my very eyes" The woman actually looked impressed. "This is a noteworthy day. You may call me Ha'nah."

Han held up a pouch. "I've got your payment here. You'll get it _after_ the slicing's done." He held out a chip. "This is for your time in meeting us, helping us with where to look."

Luke and Chewie cleared the way to the chambers that had held the Alderaanian Embassy. The space had been relabeled the private quarters of Grand Moff something-or-other, and Han ripped the placard off the door, trampling it as they entered.

Inside, the room was packed with knick-knacks, furnishings, and art from a wildly random combination of cultures, planets, and systems.

"They're trophies," Luke breathed.

"Probably every one belonged to someone who's dead now," Han muttered.

He followed as Luke wandered into a connected room, cleared a spot, and sat cross-legged on top of a massive desk.

"What's _he_ doing?" Ha'nah asked, scoffing.

Han shrugged. "He's Luke Skywalker. I don't ask."

Chewie was dumping the contents of drawers, looking at the bottoms, and sifting through the contents. Han pulled paintings off the walls, tapped the papered surfaces behind them.

Behind another imperious desk there hung an enormous, painted landscape of the Wuitho Trifalls in an ornate frame. It had been one of the great wonders of Alderaan, and one of Leia's favorites. He would have to get this painting home for her. At the very least she'd want it for the inevitable memorials and museums. He tipped the corner and peeked behind it.

"Hey, Chewie, come help me with this."

Chewie lifted the painting off the wall and set it gently aside, mournfully warbling how beautiful Alderaan had been.

Han tapped at the wall and a panel rang hollow. Behind the decorative papering was a small cabinet, carefully leveled to the wall.

Luke came in, looking a little dazed and carrying a squat carving and a book. "We need to take these home."

"Hey, kid, can you blow a safe?"

Luke raised an eyebrow but reached toward the safe then flicked his fingers toward him. The cabinet popped open. He glanced through the contents--flimsies, a few datapads--and handed them to Chewie, who put them in a satchel with the book and carving from Luke.

"Man, we coulda used you on some of our old jobs." Han turned to Chewie, "Hey, buddy, you think you can get this painting back to the _Falcon_ for Leia?"

Chewie barked and nodded an affirmative, and they all went to the computer terminal.

"How's the slicing going?" Han asked, leaning on the back of Ha'nah's chair.

Ha'nah elbowed him off.

Luke and Chewie snickered.

"I don't think any of the ambassadorial records are extractable from this mess. The histories, though, senatorial speeches and debates, those had sufficient redundancy to make them recoverable, especially from a high security terminal like this one." She held out five data cards. Han passed them to Chewie. "These are a sample. Consider them my interview or audition. Let the Princess and her new government know I'd like to be on the team to restore the records of the Old Republic."

Chewie nodded at the contents of the cards and Han extended his hand. He and Ha'nah shook on the deal and he tossed her the money. "That's twice what we agreed. I heard you were the best, and Chancellor Mothma told me to offer it to you as a signing bonus if I could convince you to work on data restoration." He tossed her a comlink. "She'll be in touch."

Ha'nah leaned back in the massive chair and plunked her feet on the desk. Looked like the old embassy was going to be put to good use, at least for the time being.

As they navigated their way out of the shambles of the corridors, Chewie lugging the awkward painting, Luke said, "I have one more place I'd like to check while we're here."

"The Jedi Temple, yeah, I figured. We're just gonna get the painting onto the _Falcon_ then we're going with you, kid."

"I really don't think--"

"It's non-negotiable. Never know what old Palps might have booby-trapped."

There wasn't time to investigate the entire Temple. It was massive, making even the Massassi Temple from Yavin look like a lake house by comparison.

The main entry was a formal, massive affair with propped-up dead as its macabre sentries.

"Well, that's Emperor-style creepy," Han quipped.

The halls were vast, lined with echoey marble that was cracked and pock-marked from shrapnel. Even Han fell silent; the weight of history and the dead made their footsteps sound intrusive.

Han and Chewie held their weapons tightly, but Luke moved as if drawn, seemingly entranced, and, despite exchanging regular and dubious glances, they followed.

Several floors up was a massive, double-storied area that must have been an archive. Something that size could have held millennia of history and legend, but now it contained only remnants of shelves with scattered ashes in places. It felt hollow, lonely even.

Another floor up, Luke touched a door, whispered, "Yoda," and waved two fingers. The door slid open to reveal the remnants of very small furnishings and gouges in the walls. Luke's head hung, and his shoulders slumped. Chewie place a paw on his shoulder accompanied by a low whine.

"You did?"

Chewie's response of a woof and a warble was simple.

"Hey, Chewie, help me with this," Luke said from what must have been a little cot. "There's something. Yeah...just hold that up."

Chewie yanked up on the cot-bench, and Luke held his hands against the wall. A portion of the wall slid smoothly out, revealing several odd-sized volumes of dusty old books made of actual paper. Luke pulled a length of cloth from his satchel, wrapped them carefully, slid them gently inside, and flipped the satchel closed. He left the room without a word with Chewie behind him and Han gawking.

"Wait," Han rushed to follow them back down the hall. "A long time ago? I don't care if it was 'a long time ago.' You _met_ this Yoda guy? And you didn't _say_ anything?" He tugged at the Wookiee's elbow as Chewie responded. "Oh, don't give me that 'it was someone else's story to tell' garbage."

Another soft woof, this one definitely scolding.

"Fine. Respectful. I can be respectful." Han rolled his eyes, but fell quiet again. This entire damned edifice was one huge tomb, that was for sure.

Along one hallway, now high up in this wing, Luke trailed his fingers along the wall. "I'm sure my father was here...or...almost sure. I'm not even sure why, though, because all I can feel is confusion."

As they climbed higher in the tower above the ruined archives, Luke whispered, "All I feel is loss and terror and regret." He reached for the ubiquitous winged lightsaber symbol on the wall but flinched back, took a deep breath, and placed one palm against the panel.

The door slid open to reveal massive windows with an incredible view on the vast city below. Facing the center of the round room, various chairs were arranged in a circle, and the floor was littered with at least two dozen miniature version of the robes Old Ben had worn.

Gagging and coughing, Luke staggered back out. Tears streamed down his abruptly-pallid cheeks, and Chewie barely caught him before he hit the floor. Luke blinked, feet scrambling for a moment before gaining purchase until his back hit the wall behind him, and one hand came up and gestured sharply so the door slammed home in its casing again.

The entire space felt...corrupted, even to Han.

Twenty silent minutes later, they stepped out of the temple into the dusty air and grey light of dusk. Another twenty and they were on the _Falcon_ getting launch clearance.

Luke spent the entire flight back to Chandrila poring in silence over the flimsis from Chewie's bag. He didn't look up when they dropped out of hyperspace or when they were cleared for landing.

"Chewie, you wanna help me get that painting up to our quarters?" He set them down on the landing pad and turned. "Hey, kid. We're home."

"Han, this is...it's information, but it's barely anything. Do you know how much we're _never_ gonna know?"

Unlatching his harness, he headed out of the cockpit, pausing to set a hand on Luke's shoulder. "I know, kid. Seems like the losses just keep coming."

"Every time it seems like it'll be one too many, doesn't it?" Poor kid looked as deflated as he had after old Kenobi had died.

"Yeah. Yeah, it does. Has Leia talked to you at all?"

Luke nodded. "She asked me to come by tomorrow."

"This transition, all these transitions really, have been pretty hard on her."

"It's past time for me to see my nephew again too." Luke actually smiled at that.

 _That little boy is going to be what gets us through this_ , Han thought. "Why don't you come on up tonight? Help us deliver the painting and see Ben." He ruffled the kid's hair and went to help Chewie.


End file.
